


Tales from the concrete cube

by Wastelandfox13



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Apocalypse, Future, Mojave Wasteland (Fallout), Nuclear Warfare, Other, Post-Nuclear War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 22:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18353003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wastelandfox13/pseuds/Wastelandfox13
Summary: A family struggles to survive life outside the vault in a post apocalyptic world. Death, love, family fudes and radiation, will the song of the wasteland become to much?





	1. Radio Silence

Radio silence.

The bombs had fallen three hundred and seventy five days ago, the marks on the old calendar and the fifteen new scratches on the wall told them so.  
China had set the first nukes off, aiming every where they possibly could.  
Shortly followed by USSR  
Great Britain allied the United States, but there was no helping us.  
The whole world had us In their sights every missile, every war head even the biological warfare we didn’t think they had.  
The atomic bombs though, we weren’t ready for them.

The mushroom as its been nicked named could be seen for miles, the white House is there no more. What little structure of law and order that was left when the sirens stared has disintegrated with the building.  
The sky rained metal and flame, smoke covered the land like a grey monster engulfing everything in its path trees, cars, buildings, people this monster wasn’t fussy. Men, women not even children were safe from its inescapable appetite only the lucky escaped.

The vaults were only an escape for the elite or for those intellectual folk that had more brain power than the ones pushing the buttons but even the vaults weren’t the escape they had Hoped for. Trials of every nature awaited the unsuspecting dwellers, vault tech were not the hero’s they had claimed to be. Satan in his Sunday best, Satan in his Sunday best.  
The great war started and ended on October 23rd, 2077. The date is November 7th 2078 and we have…  
Radio silence.

 

October 23rd , 2077

The sound of the sirens echoed off the walls as Mr. Handy floated around the small 3 bedroomed house, his military grade speaker repeating “this is not a drill” the orange light in his casing flashing violently. 8 terrified bodies came spilling from various rooms, Dad had been ready for this day since China told the world it wasn’t going to take its shit anymore.

The small house boasted a large cellar with outside access, to the untrained eye it was just a cellar but to the family it was the next best thing to a vault. Dad had spent the years turning it into a safe house for 8 people and a robot with enough food, medication and sleeping space to put even vault tech to shame, but was a concrete and lead lined hidey hole going to be enough. 

There we stood shaking in the window as people and cars rushed past us escaping to their chosen vault 101 or to family within driving distance, why die alone in the shadow of the mushroom cloud when you can die with your loved ones. A second siren started to blast, the final warning for those entering the local vault 1 hour to go. The news caster had warned us about this day and now he was delivering his final warning, the whole continent stood with baited breath as the words “NUCLEAR ANNILTION” danced across the circular screens and good old David Leach said his final good byes and wished us the best of luck…. Boy were we going to need it. That was it even good old David was gone, the test screen telling us to please stand by lasted all of five seconds then the static started.

Dad and Mom were already in the hidey hole putting the last of the supplies in, the ham radio pinging off codes and warnings like there was no tomorrow. 8 beds a docking station and a dog bed lined the left wall, food and water lined the back wall furthest away from the hatch. The hidey hole was stocked and ready to go it was a pity we weren’t.  
A third siren. The military were rolling in, the footfall of soldiers and tanks heading to 101 to guard the door. Not even allowed in but good enough to die in the dust like the rest of us. Luke had been called to duty when China had thrown up its war colors, Dad had giving him a bed just incase but his face wasn’t in the sea of green and camouflage, 7 hearts sank In time to the footfall of the soldiers arriving.  
The vault siren suddenly stopped. That was it 101 was sealed, the army were fighting back families who hadn’t made it in time and people who were never going to be allowed in, the sirens were replaced with screams and pleas for mercy and help followed by gun fire. One shot, two shots then suddenly it was open season…

“IN TO THE HIDEY HOLE NOW! “ dad’s voice was like a pin dropping in perfect silence, the ping echoing of Mr. Handy’s casing. The sky was empty not even birds flew where nukes did. A loud boom bounced off the empty houses and that was it China had started its barrage, the white House had been hit! The mushroom cloud started to column into the sky and we fell into the hidey hole! 

7 terrified people a dog and Mr. Handy watching the world explode.


	2. Ticking

October 28th, 2077

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Listening to a Geiger counter for five days straight will do strange things to you. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick

The dust has settled but the rain is irradiated enough to melt skin from bone each drop is going to the rhythm of the Geiger counter tick, drop, tick, drop, tick, drop the only breaks are the claps of thunder and then the deafing silence that follows until the next storm. Every storm sends Tex into a frenzy and sends mom one step closer to throwing open the hatch and damming us all. Grandad turns the ham radio on between electrical storms, radio silence.

Tick. Drop. Static. Tick. Drop. Static. “This is bunker, can anybody hear me?” tick. Drop. Static. Silence.

Penny has taken to singing to the twins, the hidey hole almost seems normal for five minutes when the sounds of six days ago reach our ears the Ink Spots and Mr. Crosby doing all they can to sooth fraying nerves. Penny could have made it big if that bomb hadn’t gone off your classic all American sweet heart, the type army boys write home too and a face for the TV. Even five days after the mushroom cloud eclipsed our sun she’s still glowing.

Tick. Drop. Static. Tick. Drop. Static. “This is bunker, can anybody hear me? “ tick. Drop. Static. Silence. “I don’t want to set the world on fire”…

The song of the waste land we’ve taken to calling it every chord as dark and monotonous as the one before, no birds bringing in the new dawn, no children playing in the once lively streets of Springvale. Just our family or what’s left of it surviving in our concrete prison, the song of the wasteland pushing us closer to the open arms of insanity. Eating away at what little hopes we had of crawling out through the Fallout to see the world as it once was. Are the vault dwellers as tortured as us by the sounds or therefor lack of, is the PA system a comforting tune? Reminding them that they aren’t alone and that lunch today is glorious spread of your home cooked favorites followed by dandy boy apples!

Tick. Drop. Static. Tick. Drop. Static. “This is bunker, is anyone still out there?” tick. Drop. Static. Silence. “I don’t want to set the world on fire” sobbing. Tick. Tick. Tick

Mom wakes up from every sleep with tears running down her face and the word “Luke” forming on her lips, her first baby boy the toast of the family sports star turned military man. No one dares say his name out loud for fear of the repercussions, the bolted doors can only keep so much sadness in and so much radiation out! A rock must have hit the hatch two or more days ago and it took the whole family to stop her flinging open the doors to embrace her baby boy with loving arms, she hasn’t looked us in the eye since the mistaken “knock” and no ones heard anything even remotely close to an “I love you since” since the bombs fell.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.  
The tension is at boiling point within our concrete cube. One small spark could be the catalyst to end it all, anyone of us the culprit holding the match ready to set the world on fire all over again…..

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick….. BOOM.


	3. BOOM

November 2nd, 2077.

10 days, that’s all our little world lasted. 10 fucking days.

The constant sound of the Geiger counter ticking away by the hatch had become the sound track to our life’s, so when it escalated to a rapid scream at the early hours of the morning you can imagine our surprise.

“MR. HANDY WHAT’S HAPPENING!”

His circular silhouette barely visible in the darkness apart from the warning orange light bouncing off the walls and the flashes of neon green that entered through a gaping hole where the lead panel should be. 

“Sir it would appear madam has opened the hatch!”

His robotic voice unable to portray the imminent danger that was unfolding.   
Dad was up and bundling the twins towards the back of the cube Tex in tow! Grandad was already half way through putting the radiation suit on, Penny stood in bewilderment at the bottom of the stairs watching the world explode, around Mom.

She stood in the middle of a electrical storm, lightning forked and spayed on the ground inches away from her bare feet, irradiated rain poured from the sky burning away small patches of flesh as it landed, her once beautiful dark brown hair falling away in clumps. Her face bubbled and blistered from the heat of the fires that still raged through Springvale, but there she stood calling out for her baby boy. 

Grandad was half way through the hatch when he realised he was to late to save his baby girl, the open arms of insanity were to tantalising to say no too and mom’s mind to weak to stop them grabbing at her. She strolled through Springvale as if walking through the park on a summers day all the time calling for her precious Luke.

Then our world was black again the orange warning light of Mr. Handy and the steadily decreasing tick of the Geiger counter the only indication that normality was returning. Grandad had sealed our concrete creation up and replaced the lead panel that guarded the door to the hell that raged outside, the hell hole that was devouring his only surviving child one cancerous cell at a time. The lights flickered into existence to show that hell had tried to enter our oasis and succeeded, irradiated dust lay in a perfect circle around Penny her face and hair now black and grey where it had settled.

Penny’s scream broke the deafing silence and all hell broke lose within. Cries of anguish, fear and pain filled the room, the song of the wasteland had a new chorus now darker and more sinister than before. The wasteland still burnt fiercely in Penny’s mind as Mr. Handy set to work hosing her and Grandad down, the dust eating its way through radiation suit and flesh alike. 

“Seal it. Weld the fucking bolts shut and the lead in place.”

Dad’s words were like new nukes exploding in our ears, more fatal than the atomic nightmare raging on outside.   
Heartache is like cancer once it starts it’s hard to stop the spread, you can cut it out and try and move on but no one really survives it and poor dad was getting his tumours cut out left right and centre , and all unwillingly. 

Six people and a dog shared a blanket Fort on the floor that night under the watchful eye of a robot, the now slightly more frantic ticking of a Geiger counter and a strange green hue.   
10 days down, only a hundred and ninety to go.


End file.
